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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800042">Vile Tactics</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blood, Choking, Crying, Explicit Sexual Content, FE3H Kinkmeme, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, M/M, Out of Character, Rape Aftermath, Spit As Lube, background Netteflix, no beta we die like Glenn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:27:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,566</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28800042</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You have only yourself to blame, Felix,” Gilbert sighs, yanking hard on Felix’s hair, pulled up in a braid. A thick hand winds around his neck, squeezing hard and cutting off his air. Felix thrashes against him. “I told you to reconsider, and you chose to be the same arrogant, petulant little brat you’ve always been, thinking you know better than your elders. You’ve let your title go to your head already. I think it’s time someone reminds you of your place.” The edges of his vision are starting to go blurry when Gilbert releases his grasp, letting Felix’s head drop back down to the desk with a dull thud as the younger man coughs and sputters, sucking in deep lungfuls of air.</p><p>Felix’s trousers are shoved down to his knees.<br/>-----<br/>Felix won't budge in their negotiations. Gilbert is done asking nicely.</p><p>Fill for FE3H Kinkmeme</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gilbert Pronislav/Felix Hugo Fraldarius</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Vile Tactics</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt:</p><p>After Rodrigue's death, it's Felix who's in charge of House Fraldarius. But he refuses to listen to Gilbert when he comes to ask for House Fraldarius's support, so Gilbert decides to fuck him into obedience.</p><p>+ bottom (cis)Felix, lots of tears and Felix obviously fighting back (maybe some blood to go with that, maybe some breathplay?)<br/>+ Gilbert isn't here to make it pleasurable for Felix, though he does make it pleasurable for himself (if he fucks him dry or not is up to you!)<br/>++ if Felix tries to guilt him to stop, like bringing up Gilbert's wife and Annette, but Gilbert is set on his way<br/>(+ bonus? A quick scene showing how Felix deals with the aftermath)</p><p>-----</p><p>Hope you like it, OP.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If there is one thing that Felix has found tries his patience since the end of the war, it’s all the negotiation and trade bartering that comes along with being a duke. Everyone has their own goals, their own motives, their own agendas, and trying to reach a mutually beneficial accord within those parameters is often like pulling teeth.</p><p>Felix buries a heavy sigh of frustration by take a sip of his tea. Across the desk from him, Gilbert – Gustav, whatever – stares evenly at him. They’ve been at it for most of the afternoon, Gilbert sent by his brother, Baron Dominic, to discuss the prospect of Fraldarius providing resources to aid the struggling post-war rebuilding efforts of the small territory the baron holds. Despite the calm, collected facade Felix has always known him to project, there’s an anger that burns just under the surface, rigidly contained. It’s always been there, Felix knows; he’d spent enough time in his youth watching Dimitri wrestle with his own demons that it wasn’t difficult to see them in others.</p><p>“I’ve already offered as much as I can spare,” Felix says flatly, trying his hardest to put the note of finality in his voice that his father had been so good at. “My priorities are to my people, first and foremost.”</p><p>“Fraldarius wasn’t touched by the war to nearly the same degree the lands surrounding the capitol were,” Gilbert argues, and this conversation is beginning to feel a bit cyclical. “His Majesty has done his best to provide aid, but with a continent to look after, you can understand why we’re forced to seek help elsewhere. I tried speaking with Margrave Gautier, but I’m sure you know as well as anyone how stingy he can be. I was hoping you would be more reasonable.”</p><p>“No,” Felix bites back, his tenuous patience wearing thin, “you were hoping to take advantage of my inexperience so you can pressure me into giving you what you want, even if it means my people go without.” Gilbert’s eyes narrow. “I may not have been close with my father, but that doesn’t mean he failed to prepare me to take over for him before he passed. I know what a bad deal looks like, Gilbert.”</p><p>“Gustav,” he corrects Felix pointedly. “And I assure you, I wasn’t trying to take advantage of you. I’m simply trying to find an arrangement that will suit the both of us.”</p><p>Felix pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to collect himself before he stands. Fucking noble politics and bullshit. He rounds the desk, leaning against it and regarding him evenly. “And I’ve already told you the arrangement that works for me. It’s a generous deal and you know it. If you choose not to take it, that’s on you.”</p><p>Gilbert stands now, too, smoothing out the creases in his tunic. He looms over Felix, though the smaller man doesn’t balk under his scrutiny. “I can see there will be no reasoning with you today,” he sighs, shaking his head in disdain. “But I must insists you reconsider your stance, Felix.”</p><p><em>Duke </em><em>Fraldarius</em>, Felix wants so badly to say, as his father might have when he was alive and negotiating with a particularly troublesome associate. But Felix hasn’t quite been able to bring himself to pull the rank card, no matter how tempting it often is. “And why is that?” he huffs instead.</p><p>Gilbert takes a step forward, crowding into Felix’s space, looming over him. Felix narrows his eyes, wondering what angle the older man is playing. “I don’t think you want to test me.”</p><p>“Is this your plan?” he scoffs, crossing his arms, playing unaffected even as his heart starts to race, his trained soldier’s eyes scrutinizing the man’s body language and assessing the threat of danger. “You intend to threaten me into doing what you want?” He bites out a bitter laugh. “I’m not afraid of you, and I’m not easily intimidated.”</p><p>“Is that so?” the man muses, head cocking to the side as his eyes rake him up and down. “Perhaps we should change that.” Before he can open his mouth to speak, Gilbert’s hand clamps down tight on Felix’s shoulder. He jerks away, reflexes as fast as ever, dodging to the side.</p><p>Felix is fast, agile, and that served him well in the war, especially when faced with a much larger opponent – which Gilbert certainly qualifies as in that moment. And while he’s no slouch when it comes to brawling, he is most in his element with a sword in his hand. His nearest sword now, however, rests across the room, hanging over the mantle on a decorative display. He curses himself for falling into a comfortable security in the past few months of peace.</p><p>His hesitation while he assesses the situation costs him, as Gilbert’s thick arm shoots out the second Felix moves to dart past him toward the fireplace, grabbing him around the middle. Felix scrambles in his grasp, even as he’s manhandled against the man’s chest and forced toward his desk. He kicks and elbows and snaps and shouts, fighting like a feral animal, but in a contest of brute strength, Felix loses.</p><p>His chest hits the unyielding wooden surface of the desk hard enough to knock the air from his lungs, Gilbert’s weight pressing against him from behind and keeping him pinned in place. His wrists are held fast in Gilbert’s meaty fists.</p><p>He is helpless beneath him.</p><p>“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growls, still struggling in vain to free himself, even as Gilbert yanks his arms roughly behind his back and holds them in a single hand. Felix his horrified to feel an unmistakable bulge prodding against his rear where the man has him pinned. “You’re a sick bastard.” He starts to wind what Felix can only assume is the belt that had previously cinched his tunic around his immobilized wrists.</p><p>“You have only yourself to blame, Felix,” Gilbert sighs, yanking hard on Felix’s hair, pulled up in a braid. A thick hand winds around his neck, squeezing hard and cutting off his air. Felix thrashes against him. “I told you to reconsider, and you chose to be the same arrogant, petulant little brat you’ve always been, thinking you know better than your elders. You’ve let your title go to your head already. I think it’s time someone reminds you of your place.” The edges of his vision are starting to go blurry when Gilbert releases his grasp, letting Felix’s head drop back down to the desk with a dull thud as the younger man coughs and sputters, sucking in deep lungfuls of air.</p><p>Felix’s trousers are shoved down to his knees.</p><p>Fear curdles in his stomach, and he can feel more than see the man beginning to unlace his trousers. He wonders if Gilbert can feel the way his heart pounds furiously in his chest through the hand planted forcefully between his shoulder blades. “Gustav,” he says as evenly as he can manage, trying his hardest to squash down the tremble in his voice, the panic. “Be reasonable. Would you really <em>rape </em>someone over a trade squabble?”</p><p>“Are you reconsidering your stance already, Felix?” he laughs, his length now free and poking against Felix’s bare thigh.</p><p>“I didn’t say that.”</p><p>“Then, I’m afraid that, yes, I really would.” He presses a leg between Felix’s thighs, forcing them apart. A lewd, slick sound follows, and Felix cranes his neck as far as he can to see the man sucking on two fingers. Fingers, he realizes with a fresh wave of fear, that he intends to force inside Felix.</p><p>Felix tries a different tactic. “What would your wife think if she knew what you were doing?” he spits. “What would <em>Annette </em>think?” Annette… goddess, he regrets thinking of Annie. Annie who Gilbert doesn’t know – who no one knows – had agreed to take Felix’s hand when he’d asked at the end of the war, despite the way he’d forgone tradition by not asking for her father’s blessing. They’d decided to wait until things calmed down before announcing their engagement.</p><p>He chokes out a sob as a finger is buried inside him in a single, brutal push. It burns, more than he had expected. His arms strain against their confines, and he thrashes under Gilbert as the man pumps the finger roughly in and out. “This will be easier if you hold still and shut up,” he warns, pushing the second finger in along the first. Tears well in Felix’s eyes.</p><p>Felix isn’t naive enough to think it’s over when they finally withdraw a few moment’s later. Gilbert spits into his palm and slicks his length. He doesn’t go slow as he sheathes himself in Felix with a sigh. It feels like Felix is being ripped in half on his girth, the two fingers not nearly enough preparation.</p><p>The man starts a punishing pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air over the choked gasps and barely restrained sobs that Felix tries his damnedest to hold in. His chest heaves, all the fight drained from his body as all he can do is lay there take it. He lets his eyes close, tears streaming freely down and pooling on the wood against his cheek. Shame, anger, pain, and humiliation war inside of him.</p><p>Gilbert’s rhythm begins to falter, and he pulls out abruptly. Felix doesn’t have time to be confused as he’s grabbed roughly by the braid once more and yanked back. He yelps as he’s forced onto his knees in front of Gilbert, the man’s thick, flushed cock in his face. He notices with some disgust that it’s streaked with a mixture of spit and Felix’s own blood, blood that he can now feel trickling down the backs of his thighs.</p><p>A hand wraps around the cock, and Gilbert gives himself a few more furious pumps before spending with a groan, hot spurts of his cum painting Felix’s face and hair. A hollow emptiness is all that registers at the bizarre sensation of the globs rolling down over his lips and dripping from his chin.</p><p>Gilbert regards him as if Felix is something stuck to the bottom of his shoe as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, using it to clean the mess from his hand and his softening cock before tucking himself back into his trousers. He reties his laces leisurely, as if he’s got all the time in the world. Entirely unaffected by the fact that he’s just raped a man for disagreeing with him.</p><p>He grabs a handful of Felix’s hair again, forcing him to look up at the man who’s just violated him. “Thank you for your time, <em>Duke Fraldarius</em>. I think the rest of this discussion can be handled in correspondence, don’t you?” He doesn’t seem to care that Felix doesn’t answer him, bending down to finally untie his wrists. Felix slumps back against the desk, arms limp at his sides. With a brisk nod, Gilbert starts for the door. “I will be awaiting a more agreeable answer on the matter.”</p><p>The door closes behind him with a click.</p><p> </p><p>-----</p><p> </p><p>Castle Fhirdiad’s gardens are beautiful in the early summer. Felix stares blankly out over them, steaming cup of Almyran Pine tea clasped in his hand. He’s yet to take a sip. Dimitri eyes him with concern from across the garden table, sipping slowly on his own tea that Felix knows he can’t even taste.</p><p>“Are you alright, Felix?” he wonders for the third time that afternoon. Felix sighs, squeezing his eyes closed. He knows he’ll have to say what he’s come to say, what he’s insisted on stealing away time from the king’s busy schedule to say. The unspoken words taste like ash in his mouth.</p><p>“No,” he admits. “I’m not alright.” Dimitri is silent and Felix can hear the clink of his teacup being gently set down on the table. He doesn’t need to look to know the way the man’s lone blue eye settles its full focus on him, waiting patiently for Felix to bring himself to say what he needs to. He opens his eyes. “I am here to… to formally accuse a member of the Faerghus nobility of a crime.”</p><p>Dimitri’s eye widens. It’s a whole lengthy and unpleasant process to charge and try a noble for their crimes. A noble of higher status must bring the charges up to the king, for starters. Then begins moons of questioning, arbitration, and in remarkably few cases, trial. It had taken Felix a considerable amount of time to make up his mind. The whole thing was going to be painful and humiliating, after all.</p><p>And Annette is going to despise him.</p><p>But Felix knows he won’t be able to live with what happened if he doesn’t try and make sure the man never uses his vile <em>negotiation tactics</em> on anyone again. He clenches his fists tight, willing his resolve to hold.</p><p>“Felix?” Dimitri prompts, drawing his attention back to the present. Felix blinks. He must have been speaking for a while without Felix noticing. “Who are you bringing an accusation against, and for what crime?”</p><p>He swallows hard. He’s come too far to back down now. He squares his shoulders and meets Dimitri’s gaze evenly. “Gustav Dominic.” Dimitri’s brow furrows. “His crime is rape.”</p><p>Dimitri balks, running a hand though his hair. “That’s a very serious charge, Felix,” he muses, as if Felix doesn’t know that already. He grabs his cup once more, turning it anxiously in his fingers. “Who do you allege he’s… raped.” His voice is thick, falling back on formality in his discomfort. It must be the first time he’s had charges brought to his attention, Felix realizes. And such vulgar ones, at that.</p><p>His fingers ball into the fabric of his trousers, nails digging into his skin. He can’t meet Dimitri’s gaze any longer, eyes falling to his own lap. “Me.”</p><p>It is clearly not the answer he is expecting. There is the crack of china, fine white shards bursting out around the king, scalding tea falling into his lap and staining his finery. He doesn’t seem to notice, focused solely on Felix. “Felix, what happened?”</p><p>Felix draws in a deep breath, cursing the way he feels tears prickling in his eyes. His nails bite harder into his thighs. “Last moon, he visited Fraldarius to discuss if I would send supplies to the Dominic Barony to aid their efforts to rebuild. I offered what I could spare, and I believed it was a reasonable compromise. He didn’t agree. When I refused to budge he…” Felix looks up, feeling the first hot tear rolling down his cheek. “He raped me, Dima.” His voice cracks.</p><p>There is a deep sadness in Dimitri’s eye, hand hovering toward Felix, wanting to reach out and comfort him, not wanting to make Felix uncomfortable. “Sothis,” the king breathes, “Felix, I’m so sorry.” It hangs in the air between them, both men knowing it does nothing to help. But what even is there that he can say to possibly make things okay? “Of course I will accept the charges you’ve brought against him.”</p><p>Felix nods. It will be a long, embarrassing, and painful road, he knows, but that’s a concern for tomorrow. They watch the sun set over the garden in silence.</p>
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